


Reawakening

by Dee_Moyza



Category: Parasite Eve
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, Post-Canon PE1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29251866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dee_Moyza/pseuds/Dee_Moyza
Summary: When Daniel is ambushed during an investigation, Aya's powers reawaken after months of dormancy.  But they are not the powers she'd become familiar with; in fact, they more closely resemble Eve's.After the account of her reawakened powers goes public, Aya is contacted by an FBI agent who tells her about the survival and westward migration of Neo-Mitochondrial Creatures, and invites her to join MIST to stop them.  As Aya debates leaving the NYPD for MIST, she receives a startling reminder that her battle is far from over.
Relationships: Aya Brea & Daniel Dollis
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	Reawakening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FireEye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireEye/gifts).



The coffee at the station was never great, just enough to keep people going through long shifts and even longer investigations, but today's was particularly weak. Aya took a sip, then grimaced.

"I know," Daniel said, flinging a file folder onto her desk, "you'd think saving the world would be enough to get a decent cup of coffee around here."

Aya opened the folder and shuffled through its contents. "I'm used to it."

"That's one of the most terrifying things I've heard." Daniel took a swig from his own cup, sighed, then nodded at the folder. "New case, armed robbery turned homicide at a watch repair shop. Guess even a broken Rolex fetches a pretty penny."

"One victim, two suspects…"

"And a couple antiques. Some old pocket-watches belonging to the victim's family."

Aya raised an eyebrow. "So, are we investigating the homicide or the theft?"

"Both. Catch the crooks, find the loot." Daniel finished his coffee, then crumpled the paper cup in his hand. "Seriously, Aya, you should leverage your accomplishments to get us better coffee. Be a hero twice over."

"Getting good coffee is your fight. Mine is trying to put that incident behind me." She finished reading the papers in the folder, then stood up, brightening. "Let's get going. We've got a job to do."

Nearly a year and a half had passed since that week when Eve wreaked havoc on New York, determined to extend her influence over all life on Earth. Though that influence came to an end when Aya destroyed the Ultimate Being, Aya's battle was far from over. Nightmares and flashbacks were the least of her problems; managing the powers resulting from her "awakened" mitochondria proved even more stressful, and possibly, more dangerous. Any threat, real or perceived, any surprise, good or bad, could trigger them, and she lived in constant fear of accidentally harming or even killing friends or coworkers or innocent bystanders.

To combat this fear, she asked for special training sessions in which to learn to control her powers more efficiently. With increased use, her powers became more manageable, and her anxiety surrounding them receded. And, no longer fueled by fear or insecurity, her powers eventually diminished, before slipping away completely.

It had been four months since her last training session, four months since she'd felt that overwhelming surge of heat generated by her mitochondria. Four months since she'd begun to feel like herself again. Four months since she'd been _normal_.

She would never again be the person she was before that night in Carnegie Hall, but now she could live without fear, and focus on building a future for herself.

One case at a time, one day at a time.

One breath at a time.  
  


* * *

  
Multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, and a final one to the head. Whoever the perpetrators were, they were thorough. The victim was Chester Ashburn, the shop's owner, and, from where he'd fallen in the doorway to his office, he'd apparently surprised the suspects as they broke in.

"This happened overnight," Aya said, rising from a crouch beside the body and stepping into the office. "What was he doing here so late?"

Daniel shrugged and looked at the shattered cases by the front counter. "Tidying up? Counting the day's sales? Late-night accounting? A man's got a right to stay in his own shop without people busting in and killing him."

"I know. I wasn't implying that he did anything wrong, but you'd think he'd have others to do those little tasks for him." Aya peered at the papers scattered across his desk and noticed one of them had a corner torn off. On closer inspection, she saw that it was a receipt, for the repair of watch, totaling over five hundred dollars. The customer's name and address were missing.

"That's a pretty hefty bill," Daniel said, walking in and looking over her shoulder.

"It says 'overhaul.' At this price, I assume it was an antique, similar to the ones the suspects made off with from here."

"So, the name and address that're torn off…"

"They must be looking for more. Is there any other way we can find out who this order belonged to?"

Daniel frowned, then wandered around the desk to the computer. "Ashburn must've kept electronic records, too. But we're gonna have to wait for digital forensics to get into them."

"And by then, it could be too late." Aya rifled through more papers. "Maybe there's more documentation for this order. A note, perhaps? If the customer called ahead of time, there could be a memo…"

"Tell you what, you keep looking, and I'll radio the station, see if we can get someone on this computer, pronto." He gave the keyboard a few futile taps, unable to bring up anything more than a login screen, then walked out of the shop.

Aya continued to search, carefully turning over papers, then turning her attention to a file box on top of the safe in the corner of the office. She found folders for receipts, and one marked "Special Orders," which contained orders running into the hundreds, even thousands, of dollars, but no copy of the damaged receipt. She looked on with a sigh as the computer was removed as evidence, and mulled over what little she'd found on the ride back to the station.

By late afternoon, forensics had gotten into the computer and located the name and address of the mystery customer, who was escorted by police to a secure location while Aya and Daniel waited for the suspects to make their next move.

"No matter how they like to play it up on TV, the actual work's pretty anticlimactic," Daniel said, pulling on his jacket and grabbing his keys. "Now, let's go wait for our men of the hour to show up."

Aya frowned. "Something still bothers me. Why was that receipt out in the open, and not filed with the others?"

"Maybe he was closing out the order."

"It was from three weeks ago. And why did the suspects tear off the name and address? Why not take the whole receipt? It wasn't like Ashburn was gonna use it anymore."

"What are you getting at?"

"It all seems so…staged. Like they were telegraphing their intentions, trying to create a diversion." Her eyes widened. "Daniel, how much did the suspects steal from the shop last night?"

"The antiques that were in a display case, some of Ashburn's current projects, a few resale pieces. No cash, though, and they left the jewelry untouched. I guess he interrupted them."

"Wouldn't the jewelry be the _first_ thing they'd go for? It all looked pretty expensive. What if they were after more, something else? Would they try again?"

"We've got that place sealed up."

"And Ashburn had it _locked_ up. That doesn't mean anything to them. I'd like to check it out."

"Only if I come along. If your hunch is right, I don't want you going alone."

It was dark by the time they reached the shop. Daniel moved the crime tape aside, and Aya ducked beneath his arm to enter the shop. She shone her flashlight on the jewelry case, which sparkled back at her, as if in recognition, then continued toward the office. She pulled out the Special Orders folder again, and began scrutinizing the receipts, searching for anything they might have in common besides the types of repairs requested, any indication of what made them, and their customers, so interesting to the suspects.

While the receipt she'd found on Ashburn's desk earlier had specified an overhaul, many of the other "special" orders were for basic repairs, far too basic to justify their prices. Furthermore, each repair was accompanied by a number, and the letters _TCW_.

"What do you make of these?" she asked Daniel, handing him a stack of receipts.

He squinted at them in the light of his flashlight. "Suspicious. Basic repairs shouldn't cost that much, even for antiques."

"And the letters? TCW?"

"Hmm. Don't know. Initials, maybe?"

"Whose? Ashburn worked alone."

"An acronym?"

"Acronym. Hmm. T...total cost…total ca—carat!" Aya grasped his arm. "Total carat weight!"

"Carat? As in diamonds?"

"Of course! Ashburn specialized in watch repair, but he had a healthy stock of jewelry as well, but none of them were priced, and none of them were stolen."

"Fakes, maybe?"

"Or copies. The stones might've been switched out. Meanwhile, he was adding them to these 'repairs'. And the thieves knew that."

"So, Ashburn was some kind of middleman, taking these jewels and putting them in…watches, or just in the same shipment?" Daniel shook his head. "Huh. And he looked so innocent, too."

"The dead always do." Aya began looking at the safe, at a way to open it. "I'm sure we'll find more in here. Daniel, call the station and let them know what we've found. See if we can get into this safe somehow."

"Ordering me around, huh?" Daniel chuckled. "It's nice to see your confidence's come back, Aya. Just don't let it get out of hand." He tried the phone, found it dead. "Dammit, looks like the perps cut the phone line. I'll radio the station, be back in a bit." He walked out of the shop. Moments later, he began shouting.

Aya ran to the front, and saw Daniel struggling with a figure dressed all in black. The thieves had returned, it seemed, and they'd ambushed Daniel. He managed to wrestle his attacker to the ground, as Aya pushed open the front door, and was fumbling with his handcuffs. She stepped forward to help, then froze as time seemed to slow around her. From the corner of her eye, she spotted movement, and saw another man dressed in black draw a gun from his waistband and aim it at Daniel. For a split-second, she hesitated. Should she try to knock the gunman down, or should she try to push Daniel out of the way, and hope the other man didn't get up and attack them again, as well? Whatever choice she made, she had time for neither. The man raised the gun…

"Daniel!" she cried out, rushing to insert herself between him and the gunman. The gunman fired.

The bullet disintegrated in midair.

The gun in his hand began to glow a dull orange, and he backed away, cursing and trying to drop it, but as it glowed brighter, red, then yellow, then white-hot, it seemed fused to his skin, and burned through his hand, up his arm, into his torso, and then, he was gone. 

The smell of charred flesh stung Aya's nostrils and sent her back a year and a half to the backstage areas of Carnegie Hall, to the rehearsal room where Eve waited for her. Discordant piano notes played through her mind, and she began to tremble. It couldn't be! That power wasn't one of her own; it was Eve's. But Eve was gone, and her influence died with her! Still, Aya's body burned, and there was no denying what she'd just done. 

It wasn't Eve, at all; it was _her_.

"What the fuck was that?" the other man on the ground screamed, wriggling against the handcuffs. "Charlie! What'd you do to Charlie, you bitch?"

"Aya." Daniel rose and placed a hand on her shoulder, then quickly withdrew it. "Aya, you're burning up!"

"I thought it was over," Aya said, still looking at the Charlie's smoldering remains. "I thought I was normal. I thought—" she broke off in a sharp, cynical laugh. "I thought I could escape my destiny. I thought I could escape my own body."

"Aya, that's enough. Go sit in the car. I'll call backup, we'll deal with this."

"Deal with this?" Aya glanced at the man behind her, still screaming obscenities, then back at Charlie. "How? How are we going to explain this? We've got a witness."

Daniel looked at the man, then reached for his gun. "Not anymore."

"Daniel, _don't_! Don't do it! This is my problem, I don't want you risking your job for it. You've got Ben; what's he going to do if you're out of work? If you're in jail?"

Daniel said nothing and adjusted his grip on the gun.

"Daniel, please. We can deal with this. _I_ can deal with this. Just…don't make it worse. _Please_."

He turned the gun over in his hand, then put it back in the holster and walked to the car with a heavy sigh. But, before radioing the station, he delivered a savage kick to the man's backside, sand ordered him to shut up.

The man only howled louder.

Aya got in the car and leaned back in her seat, eyes closed, trying to drown out the man's voice, trying to forget Charlie's final screams, trying to forget the charge she'd felt when the power flowed through her. 

It felt good. A release, a rush. A high.

Using her powers hadn't felt like that before. In the months that her powers had lain dormant, what had they become? What had _she_ become?

She brought a hand up to her face and studied it. The calluses, the whorl of her fingerprints, the power thrumming just below the skin. She pressed her fingers to her eye, and she felt it, a connection, a silent communication.

She was still there, inside, sleeping. Maya. 

_Eve_.  
  


* * *

  
"Of course, I don't have to tell you what kind of mess we're in, now." Baker paced the length of his office, then leaned against his desk. "Aya, what were you thinking? You haven't used those powers in the field for months, and you do so with a witness present?"

"I didn't consciously use them, sir," Aya said, her jaw tight. "If I had any say in the matter, I'd never use them again. But Daniel's life was in danger, and I tried to insert myself between him and the gunman, and the rest just _happened_."

Baker shook his head.

"That's the truth."

"The truth's not good enough. What happens when the suspect shows up in court and blabs about what he saw? What're we going to tell the press? That you just _happened_ to burn a man to ash? That it's something you can just casually do? It'll be the Blockade Incident all over again. Except this time, there's no way to reassure the public once they find out the strange occurrences are coming from _within_ the police force."

"Sir, I assure you, it wasn't my intention."

"And that's the worst part! If it wasn't your intention, what else might you do unintentionally?"

"I would never—"

"Can you be sure?" He pressed a hand against his forehead and sighed. "I thought you had this under control, Aya."

"So did I. I thought these powers were gone. But this one seems new. Maybe if I can get back into training, I might—"

"No. No training. At least, not right now. Aya, I'm placing you and Daniel on administrative leave, per the protocol surrounding use of deadly force. Just go home, lay low, and let us deal with the fallout."

"Sir, I can't do that."

"I'm not asking if you can. I'm ordering you to do it." He stalked around his desk and sat down wearily. "Need I remind you what happened the last time you spoke to the press?"

"No."

"Good. Now go on, use this time to rest. Consider it an unplanned vacation. Just don't leave town."

"I don't plan to, Sir."

"I hate to say it, but right now, your plans carry very little weight." He dismissed her with a wave. "Send in Daniel on your way out, please."  
  


* * *

  
As Aya and Baker feared, the suspect did talk, and the press immediately latched onto the story. What kind of power could burn a man alive? Why did the NYPD have someone with that power working for them? Was this related in any way to the Blockade Incident of '97? Are New Yorkers still in danger?

Daniel pulled the TV remote from her hand and turned it off. "That's the last thing you need to see," he said.

"But it's the first thing I need to know about. Baker said the department will deal with this. But how? How are you going to explain away the suspect's account?"

"Insanity."

"Declare him incompetent to stand trial? But then he'll just—"

"Be committed to a psychiatric institution, instead of jail. Either way, he'll be off the streets." Daniel looked at her and sighed. "It's the only way, Aya. If we give any credence to the suspect, that'll put way more suspicion on you, for much worse."

"How do you explain Charlie?"

"Charlie was never there, remember? This suspect worked alone, caught me off-guard. You showed up, we apprehended him, end of story."

"Daniel, that's lying!"

"That's protecting you, and covering my own ass while I'm at it. People are gonna ask why I didn't put _you_ in cuffs after your little stunt, too."

Aya flopped back against the couch cushions with a groan. "Look at us. At you, at me, at Baker. Look at what we're doing, who we're turning into. Dammit, if these powers had just stayed away, none of this would be happening!"

"If your powers had stayed away, I'd be dead. Probably you, too."

"You're right. But why'd they go away in the first place, and why did they come back like _this_?" She looked down at her hands. "Maybe I used them too much. During the incident. In training." She stopped as a memory struck her.

 _The more you use that power, the more you will become like me._

It was one of the first things Eve told her. Was it true? Was she becoming like Eve? Was she _becoming_ Eve? She shook away the thought violently and stood up. "Daniel, you need to leave. I don't know what's going on with my powers, or with myself, and I don't want to hurt you."

Daniel chuckled. "I remember this conversation. And my answer's still the same. I trust you, and I know you won't hurt me, even if you're not sure, yourself. You're my best partner, Aya Brea, and I'll always be on your side, remember that." He rose, slipping the TV remote into his pocket. "I trust you with my life, but I don't trust you not to fixate on that crap on TV. Just do what Baker said, and use this time to rest. Call me if you need anything, even just to talk. I've got loads of free time on my hands now, too." 

Aya nodded, but couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes.

"Hey," he continued, "we've been through much worse than this. We'll get through this, I promise." He let himself out of the apartment.

Over the next few days, Aya ventured to try a few of the spells she had learned in the privacy of her home. The Heal spell still cast a cool wave of energy over her, and Barrier worked with its familiar buzz. But there was something different about the space around her, about the very air; a latent energy she hadn't been able to sense before. She concentrated on the power flowing through her, felt it creeping up from somewhere deep within, and directed it outward, toward a half-eaten bag of potato chips sitting on her kitchen counter. The bag crinkled, then smoldered, and finally burst into flames. Aya shoved it into the sink and ran water on it, but it was too late; the entire packet had been reduced to a blackened heap.

What was this power, the power to create fire from any matter? 

Had she always had it? If so, why had it lain dormant for so long?

Aya stared at the puddle of black gunk in the sink. This had been Charlie. This could be Daniel, or Baker, or anyone. How was she going to control it? How was she going to protect those she cared about?

 _Just don't leave town_. Baker's admonition played through her mind. 

_But that might be exactly what I need to do._ She ran the water over the remains of the bag once more, then headed into her bedroom, pulled a duffel bag from her closet, and began to pack.  
  


* * *

  
She was rearranging the contents of the bag to zip it closed when someone knocked on her door. Peering through the peephole, she saw a woman in a dark gray suit, holding a black leather briefcase. Aya opened the door a crack. The woman smiled.

"Aya Brea?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, I'm not talking to the press at the moment," Aya answered, and moved to close the door. A shiny black boot shot forward to stop her. 

"Oh, I'm not the press," the woman said, then presented a badge. "I'm Agent Alice Thatcher, FBI, and I'd like to talk to you. May I come in?"

Aya scrutinized the badge. It looked legitimate. She undid the latch and let Agent Thatcher in.

"It probably goes without saying, but the FBI is well aware of you, Ms. Brea, and the powers you possess. However, from the suspect's account of what happened on the night of the most recent incident, I don't believe that skill is documented anywhere in your files—police, medical, or ours. This is a new development, isn't it?"

Aya looked away. "Yes."

"Fascinating."

"Fascinating? It's troubling. My powers were dormant for months, and then they reawaken with _this_?"

"I see your point, but your reawakening wasn't as random as you suspect. It was a reaction."

"Yes, to an immediate threat. My partner's life was in danger. But that doesn't explain the change in powers, itself."

Agent Thatcher gave a strained smile. "If you'll allow me to continue."

"Yes, by all means." Aya offered her a seat on the couch and sat down beside her. Agent Thatcher opened her briefcase and produced a sheaf of papers, the top sheet bearing an illustration of a grotesque creature.

"I wasn't merely talking about a reaction to an immediate threat," she said. "Your reawakening seems to be a reaction to something even bigger, since it coincides with reports of sightings of Neo-Mitochondrial Creatures, similar to those detailed in your report on the Blockade Incident. These sightings have been reported as far west as Ohio at the moment, and we fear that they may continue to spread across the country."

"That's impossible! Once Eve died, her influence over their mitochondria stopped, and they died with her. They didn't have time to reproduce."

"Some must have. A farmer in Erie County managed to kill one of the creatures on his property, and notified authorities. Our agents in the area were able to secure a sample of the NMC's tissue, and compare its DNA to that of the NMCs that appeared here. I'm sorry to say, it was nearly an exact match."

"Nearly?"

"Yes. They seemed to have undergone a further mutation, one that would likely make them more resistant to the methods used to exterminate them here."

"How so?"

"Their mitochondria more closely resembles yours."

Aya's stomach tightened. "Mine? How?"

Thatcher shook her head. "Shady dealings, I'm afraid. You visited the hospital soon after the Blockade Incident ended, correct?"

"Yes, to be checked for injuries from the fight on the aircraft carrier."

"There, they drew blood—"

"Standard procedure."

"—and someone must have made off with a vial or two. Cultured your cells, implanted them into the NMCs that hadn't yet died, and revitalized them. Made them stronger. That's our strongest theory, at the moment."

"What? Why would they do that?"

Thatcher shrugged. "Money, power, fame, perverse curiosity. Your guess is as good as mine."

"But you've apprehended the suspects, right? You know who did this?"

"We have a team working on that as we speak. But it doesn't change the fact that there are more evolved NMCs spreading across the U.S. To deal with that threat, we have formed a team of specialists: scientists, field agents, informants. The Mitochondrion Investigation and Suppression Team, or MIST. I came here today to ask if you would consider working for us." Thatcher handed Aya a business card. "I know you're on shaky ground with the NYPD at the moment, and if that suspect keeps talking, it may be difficult to keep you on the force, or even to keep you safe. We can provide both security and employment, in a non-judgmental environment."

Aya looked at the card. It simply had the MIST acronym, followed by a phone number.

"Due to the secrecy of the operation," Thatcher continued, "you will simply be known as an FBI agent. It will be a relatively simple transition, and it will look good to the public, restore some trust in you and in the NYPD." She snapped her briefcase shut and rose, then handed Aya the stack of papers she'd pulled out. "Please do consider it, and please look over the information we've collected on the migratory NMCs. Thank you for your time, Ms. Brea. I hope to hear from you soon." With a curt nod, she let herself out of the apartment, leaving Aya staring alternately at the business card and the stack of papers, from which the ghastly and familiar mutation of a rat stared back, its eyes glazed over in death, but still conveying a warning.

 _Still here._ The words reverberated through Aya from somewhere deep inside, and she shivered. _Watch and see what evolution_ really _means._

_I'm still here…Aya.  
  
_

* * *

  
"A letter of resignation?" Baker slammed Aya's letter onto the desk. "You do know how bad this will look to the public, right? It's as if you're admitting fault!"

"Not if you frame it as a promotion," Aya replied. "An honor, to be accepted as an FBI agent."

"And leave us to clean up this mess."

"There won't _be_ a mess," Daniel said, standing beside Aya. "You just say that the NYPD has parted ways with Detective Brea. No need to go into specifics."

"But people will want to know. They'll want to know where she is, they'll want to know if they're safe."

Aya crossed her arms. "Fine. Tell them I've been committed, along with our suspect. Tell them I've been taken to a top-secret lab and put in stasis. Tell them whatever you think will make them feel better. Just let me make the decision that makes _me_ feel better."

"Look at it this way, Baker," Daniel added. "One big lie from you, and we both get to stop making all those little ones to cover for Aya. To tell you the truth, they're getting hard to keep straight."

Baker sighed. "All right. But are you sure this is the best course for you, Aya?"

"I can't think of any other at the moment. Besides, if those creatures really are spreading west, _someone's_ got to stop them."

"In that case, take care of yourself." Baker rose and extended his hand. "And thank you, on behalf of myself, the NYPD, and all of New York, for your service."

"It's been an honor, sir."

Daniel smiled as Baker and Aya shook hands. "I don't suppose you'll let us give you a big send-off, will ya?"

Aya tapped her chin, pretending to think it over. "I don't know…it might be kind of conspicuous." Then, breaking into a smile, she reached up and patted Daniel's shoulder. "But I'd love one, anyway. Thanks, Daniel."

"Hey, it's not gonna be a fancy shindig or anything, so don't go getting your hopes up."

"Even better. For some reason, these days, dresses and heels terrify me."  
  


* * *

  
Beer in hand, Aya and Daniel stood on the balcony of his apartment. Friendly chatter drifted out from inside, with Ben's voice carrying over it as he sat with his "Uncle" Baker and regaled him with stories from school and his latest video-game exploits.

"He's doing really well," Aya said, "especially considering what he's been through."

"Yeah, he's a resilient little son of a gun."

"A chip off the old block, huh? You're a good father, Daniel."

"Ah, well, I'm trying my best. Just wingin' it, most days." He took a drink. "Ben's gonna miss you. It'll be like losing his big sister."

"I'll miss him, too. But tell him to think of it as big sis going to college. I promise I'll keep in touch."

"He'll hold you to that. So, where's your first destination?"

"Erie County. Start close to home." Aya picked at the label on her bottle. "Then I just keep heading west, following whatever reports we get. The L.A. branch opens next month; they should be all set up by the time I get there."

"Aya Brea, mitochondria-for-hire. Kinda like an Old West gunslinger, huh?"

Aya laughed. "A whole lot messier, and not nearly as romantic."

"And you're a whole lot tougher than those guys ever were." He sighed. "Ah, what am I saying about Ben? _I'm_ gonna miss you, Aya. A lot. Who knows who they'll stick me with now! Some rookie who can't tell one end of the gun from the other, I'll bet."

"Send 'em to Wayne. He'll set them straight."

"It's not just the job. You're my partner, my friend; you're like family to me. And I don't have much of that left."

Aya leaned over and nudged Daniel with her shoulder. "You took the words right out of my mouth. I'm gonna miss you too. But I'll call, and I'll write. And I'll visit, when I get the chance."

Daniel hiked a brow. "For the holidays? Christmas in New York can't be beat, I'm sure you know that."

Aya shuddered. "Maybe for Easter, instead? Or over the summer?"

Daniel laughed. "I figured as much. I don't blame you, one bit. Christmas will never be the same for me, either. New Year's…well, I'm sure I'll get back into the spirit of that!"

They stood in silence for a while longer, Aya mentally mapping out the route ahead of her to keep down the rising emotion that felt like it would choke her. Daniel, Ben, Baker, and her other colleagues were her family, and they had been for the past few years. Leaving them felt surreal, frightening, like a trapeze artist letting go and reaching for the other trapeze. Except, in her case, she was working without a net.

But this was for the best. Who knew how much danger she might put her friends and colleagues in if she stayed, and who knew how much havoc the NMCs would cause if left them unchecked. She tried to deny her destiny before, and it had pulled her back in violently. Best to accept it and use it to ensure peace and the safety of others.

"Daddy!" Ben rushed out from the living room and tugged at Daniel's sleeve, "Daddy, come quick! Uncle Baker says he feels like dancin'!"

"Uh-oh." Aya chuckled and tapped her beer bottle. "How many of these has he had, Ben?"

"I dunno. He's real good about throwing them away right away."

"A regular eco-warrior, huh?"

Daniel shook his head. "It's always the straight-laced ones, isn' t it? All right, Ben, tell him to sit tight, and I'll be right there. And, uh, get a wastebasket near him."

"Okay!" Ben bounded back inside, calling out to Baker.

"Well, looks like I'm gonna have to impose some law and order," Daniel said, turning back to Aya and fishing into his pocket. "But first, I want you to have this. My mama gave it to me when I joined the force, so it's a bit beat-up now, but it's served me well." He placed an old rabbit's foot in Aya's palm.

Aya's lips quirked and she couldn't hold back a laugh. "Daniel Dollis, this is the last thing I'd expect from you! All that time you were giving Maeda grief about his 'voodoo stuff,' you were carrying around a good-luck charm of your own?"

"Hey, this isn't 'voodoo stuff!' It honest-to-goodness _works_. Kept me safe all these years, even after jumping out of a helicopter!"

"Then maybe you should keep it."

"Naw. I've got a feeling you'll be needing it a lot more than I will. Besides—" he rummaged in his pocket again and pulled out another rabbit's foot "—I've got a spare! Ben got it for my birthday. He said my old one was ' _grody_.'"

Aya held it up in front of her. The rabbit's foot was definitely showing its age. The fur was yellowed and worn thin, missing in some spots, and the clasp affixing it to the chain was tarnished and reinforced with a small glob of yellowed glue. "I wouldn't say _that_ ," she said, still grinning. "It's not bad; it's got a certain…vintage charm to it."

Before Daniel could reply, a blast of loud music from the apartment startled them both, and the chant of "Ba-ker, Ba-ker!" soon grew in volume to match it. 

"Dammit," Daniel muttered, "looks like I gotta get in there before Baker breaks a hip, or something valuable. Take your time, Aya; I guarantee, you do _not_ wanna see this!"

Aya turned back toward the city skyline with a sigh, the rabbit's foot dangling from her fingers. In less than forty-eight hours, she'd be on the road, New York City in her rearview. For now, she let the summer breeze and the warm fuzz of alcohol relax her, determined to stretch out this moment of peace and levity as long as she could.

 _Still here_. The words ran through Aya's mind again in a sultry feminine voice, instantly sobering her and chilling her blood. She grasped the rabbit's foot tightly and waited for the chill to pass.

 _Still here_ , the voice repeated. Aya polished off her beer and looked toward the horizon.

"Yeah, Eve," she said, straightening, "but so am I. Aya Brea, your natural enemy. _I'm_ still here, and as long as I am, you'll never get your way. I won't let you hurt the people I love, and I'll stop you from hurting anyone or any _thing_ else. That's my destiny, and I accept it. For as long as it takes to get rid of you."

_Still he—_

"Maybe you didn't hear me: _So. Am. I._ "


End file.
